


Tiny Tales

by StormeSixx



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-04-25 18:46:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4972174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormeSixx/pseuds/StormeSixx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of vignettes, short stories, prompt responses, etc. involving our favorite dynamic duo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's Muggy Out

**Author's Note:**

> This story is my creation. However, it is based on original work by Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko. (In other words, I don’t own anything about the Avatar universe. Otherwise, I’d be on the other side of the panels at SDCC. ☺) No deliberate infringement of anything intended. This is merely for personal enjoyment, melding their published canon material and my wild imaginings. As such, I want to express my thanks to the Almighty Bryke for the world of Avatar: The Last Airbender and The Legend of Korra. The richness of their writing and artistry has made me a lifelong fan of both series. (And, obviously, without their creation, there would not be this creation.)

Based on this Twitter post that I saw – https://twitter.com/colbieshrum/status/646880049870843904

 

Taking in a deep, satisfied breath, Korra pulled a chair out and sat down at the mahogany kitchen table. She glanced over at the clock on the wall and smiled a knowing smile to herself before taking a long drink of her coffee from the icy blue bowl in her hand. She looked over at the clock again as her right leg began to bounce in excited anticipation. Soft footfalls could be heard coming down the winding staircase of the mansion and Korra took in another slow breath to steel herself.

“Good morning,” she called out from the kitchen, alerting Asami to her presence there.

A puzzled look crossed the Sato heiress’ face as she changed course and headed to the kitchen instead with her boots in her hands. “You’re up early,” she said, standing at the threshold of the kitchen. “What’s going on?” Asami asked as she sat down on the floor to put her shoes on.

Korra shook her head lightly, her short hair swishing this way and that. “Nothing. I just wanted to see you before you left for work,” the Avatar replied sweetly before taking another sip of coffee from her bowl.

Asami quirked a brow at her as she stood up and pointed at the bowl in Korra’s hands. “Why are you drinking coffee out of a bowl?”

“It’s muggy out,” the tanned girl replied with a crooked grin.

“What?’ Asami frowned, clearly confused.

“It’s muggy out. The weatherman was just on,” Korra pointed to the radio on the counter.

The willowy engineer looked over to the little brown radio on the granite counter then back at the Avatar, still perplexed. “Oookaay …,” Asami said slowly and took a step toward the girl in the chair. “That still doesn’t answer my question. Why are you drinking coffee out of a bowl?” she said, circling her forefinger toward Korra’s bowl of coffee.

With a deliberate grin, Korra merely waved Asami toward the door. “You don’t want to be late for work,” she said and handed the baffled girl a brown bag. “It’s muggy out,” Korra repeated, ushering a rather baffled Asami toward the door.

A frown still on her face, Asami merely accepted the lunch bag with a silent nod and headed for the door, grabbing her briefcase from the back of the couch on her way out.

“It’s muggy out,” Korra said to herself quietly as she took another satisfied drink from her bowl.

As Asami opened the door to leave, she stopped short of the front step. Littered everywhere on the porch, driveway, and front lawn were … MUGS! Large ones, small ones, brown ones, black ones, chipped ones, red ones, blue ones, white ones, new ones, favorite old ones. Mugs! _All_ their mugs apparently. “KORRA!!!!”

Hearing Asami’s exasperated holler, Korra merely leaned back in her seat at the kitchen table and put her legs up on the opposite chair. “Yup, it’s muggy out,” she chuckled and took another sip of coffee from her bowl.


	2. Not On The List

Korrasami Week 2015 Prompt: Flowers

 

It was Thursday and it was time to do their weekly grocery shopping. Per Asami’s calculations, Thursday was the perfect day to do grocery shopping. Why? Because (1) you missed the weekend shoppers who were refilling for the next week and (2) you missed the early weekday shoppers who did not manage to do their shopping last weekend. So, here they were at Heng’s Grocery. Korra had the basket in her right hand as her left lazily traced along the shelves, tapping each item as she scanned past. Asami had the grocery list and was methodically directing them up and down the aisles while telling Korra when to grab something off the shelf by naming off the item and tapping the Avatar/shopping assistant lightly on the shoulder each time.

“Oooh, noodles! Do we need noodles? Look, they have noodles made from potatoes!” Korra excitedly pointed out. “Po-tay-toes! What a concept!” she added, holding up the packet for Asami to see.

“No,” the engineer replied without even looking at the packet of noodles in Korra’s hand. “We already have a ton of noodles that you keep buying but never eat,” Asami added as she walked off, emerald eyes still focused on the list in her hands. “Besides, it’s not on the list,” she added, wagging a finger into the air to make her point.

“It doesn’t _have_ to be on the list,” the tanned Water Tribe girl argued. “What if we see something new like … like …” Korra looked around the aisle, quickly trying to locate something new. “Like … this!” she exclaimed and ran toward the shelves with the boxes of iced coffee. “See? It’s new! Just came out! Iced coffee with …” Korra paused, looking at the box and furrowed her brows at the packaging. “Errr … with sea salt flavor.”

Asami merely cocked a brow at her friend, unconvinced that they would really grab that particular new product. “You want to drink salty coffee?” she asked, a nonplussed look on her face.

“Well … noooo … butthatsnotthepoint!” Korra wagged a finger at the Sato heiress, pouting. “I’m merely giving an example … of an opportunity or situation where we _might_ end up buying something not on your list. You can't have something new on your list if it just came out,” she slowly made her point, smiling proudly at herself for her use of logical argument back at Asami. Not being able to help the smugness, Korra flipped her shoulder length hair ala-Asami. Once. Twice. Three times the tall woman blinked at Korra before finally saying, “We’re not buying salty coffee.” Asami, too, flipped her raven locks and walked down the aisle away from Korra.

“That was just an example!” Korra yelled out and ran after her. As she zipped past the Floral section of Heng’s Grocery, Korra came to a skidding halt, her sea-blue eyes sparkling with mischief. A crooked smile graced the Avatar’s face as she snatched up a bouquet of yellow roses. “It’s definitely not on the list but let’s see you say no to this!” Korra muttered to herself, knowing Asami’s weakness for flowers. She slammed down exact change on the counter, scaring the poor shop assistant who had been snoozing quietly behind the cash register, and ran off to find Asami.

The young heiress was in the Meats section, scrutinizing the various cuts when Korra ran up to her and all but shoved the flowers in her face. “Here,” she said sweetly, smiling widely at Asami.

“What’s this?” Asami reached for the flowers, bringing the bouquet up to her face. “Mmmmmm … tea roses,” she sniffed the scent in deep. “They smell so good.”

“Do you like them?” Korra asked, her voice a slight octave higher and honey positively dripping from her words. She held her hands behind her back as she swayed on the balls of her feet, watching Asami’s reaction.

“I love them!” Asami replied as she started to lean forward to place a kiss on Korra’s cheek.

“Well, you can’t have them! They’re not on the list!” Korra exclaimed and snatched the flowers out of Asami’s hands before the young woman could peck Korra’s cheek for the “sweet” gesture. Channeling the twelve year old in her, Korra stuck her tongue out at Asami and blew her a loud raspberry. The butcher huffed impatiently at the pair and all Asami dared do was part her lips in a scandalized but silent protest at Korra, lest they upset the butcher more.

“Good evening, Mrs. Umeda,” the butcher turned away from them to greet an elderly woman who had shuffled up to the counter during Korra and Asami’s little “exchange.” “The usual? Beef tips for you and a thick, juicy ribeye for your husband, right?” he asked as he grabbed a piece of brown paper and reached for the steak.

“Oh … errr … n-no. Not this time,” the elderly woman’s voice started to tremble as she shook her head of gray hair. Not being able to help themselves, Korra and Asami stood off to one side and observed the woman who appeared to be fighting back tears now. “I won’t … n-not this time. He … my-my husband passed … he passed away last weekend,” the woman’s voice got softer as she finished her sentence, her chin quivering.

Sheepishly, the butcher dropped the steak he had grabbed and reached for a handful of beef tips instead. He wrapped up the beef tips quickly and handed it to Mrs. Umeda. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said quietly as she took the package with a shaky hand and slowly walked away. 

Sharing a quiet look, Asami nodded at Korra and they both ran after Mrs. Umeda. They split and flanked the elderly woman as they each placed a gentle hand on a shoulder, stopping her slow shuffle. “This is for you,” Korra said softly as she handed the widow the bouquet of roses. Then both she and Asami leaned in and kissed Mrs. Umeda on the cheek before walking off hand in hand in search of the next item on the list.

 


	3. Order Up! (AU)

The air was warm and humid, despite the air conditioning going on full blast. It was the middle of summer, after all, and with the never-ending traffic that filed through this place; it just never got cool enough. A cacophony of metallic clinks and bubbling liquids fought for dominance of the airwaves with the mumbled chatter from both the employees of Buzzy Brew and its many, many customers.

A bronze-skinned girl was behind the cash register taking orders. Or rather, she was _telling_ the customers what they wanted. She wasn’t being rude or anything. Having worked at a coffee bar for the last three years, she’d developed a knack for knowing what customers wanted. “They have a certain … look,” she tried to explain to her co-workers one night during closing, waving her slightly calloused hands around. “Certain drinkers develop a certain … look … aura … vibe … whatever you want to call it. And I pick up on that,” she flashed a toothy grin, her cobalt eyes sparkling. And pick up on that “whatever” she did! Very well too and she was hardly ever wrong. So much so, that it had led to a certain notoriety for the young woman and she had become somewhat of a local celebrity. The Psychic Barista was what some customers called her. Her acclaim certainly brought in the customers by the droves to the Buzzy Brew. People flocked to the little coffee shop just to have her tell them what they were going to order. (And maybe to watch her flex her muscular arms at them each time she got an order right. Her fame was quite an ego boost for her as well.)

“Large, macchiato … with soy,” she pointed at a portly gentleman at her counter, her brunette bob-cut swishing in her face as she hopped from the cash register to the stack of cups and back again. With practiced efficiency, she rang up one customer after another as she continued to call out their orders after just a quick look at each person. The throaty roar of a muscle car’s engine cut through the Buzzy Brew as yet another customer walked in, pausing at the door to look around the coffee shop. The barista looked up and grinned crookedly at the svelte girl standing at the back of the line, her long, raven tresses swaying gently as she continued looking around the cafe with her emerald eyes. Long fingers threaded together in front, she was bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet as she waited her turn. “Somebody is really impatient for her caffeine,” the girl behind the register mused to herself.

The newly arrived customer continued looking around the coffee shop like she was looking for something. “Or someone,” thought the Psychic Barista as she called out another drink order before finally waving at the last customer in line. The barista’s blue eyes snuck a quick peek at the new customer’s shoes. “Hmmm … designer leather boots with cream colored socks peeking out the top. Snazzy,” she started to profile the fair-skinned girl who took two swift steps up to the counter, her shiny black boot heels clacking as she appeared to be marching in place.

“Hi,” ruby lips parted with a smile at the strapping barista behind the cash register. “I need …,” she brushed her long hair back before being promptly cut off by the tanned girl holding up her hand.

“Say no more,” the “psychic” shook her head, her long bangs waving across her face. “Medium, chai latte,” she announced with a cocky grin.

A pair of well-manicured eyebrows rose upward, confused by the pronouncement. “N-no, that’s not …” the tall girl started before once again being cut off.

“Really?” came the interruption, followed by a pout. “I’m hardly ever wrong,” the barista narrowed her eyes at the bouncy customer once more and tapped her chin in thought. “Large, café mocha with lots of chocolate and go easy on the whipped cream!” the tanned girl beamed. This must be the right order!

“What?” came the reply from the customer, still rocking back and forth on her feet. “No, I just need …” she, again, tried to explain before being cut off a third time by the barista. This time, two hands waved in her heart-shaped face.

“Stop. Don’t say it. I _will_ get it. Third time’s a charm,” the barista scowled, her record of “hardly ever wrong” fast disappearing. “Large, Americano, extra sweet with 3 shots of espresso,” her voice was less confident now as she placed her hands on her hips waiting for a confirmation.

“No,” again came the customer’s reply with a shake of her raven head. “I just …” the poor girl just could not finish her sentence before being cut off again by the determined Buzzy Brew employee.

“Last time. I’ll get it right, I swea …” only this time, the barista was the one who was interrupted.

“Stop … errr …” the customer had actually reached across the counter and grabbed the tanned girl’s shoulders, intense green eyes searched the barista’s apron for a quick second before finding her name tag buried among a bunch of other caffeine-related badges and insignias. “Korra? Yes, Korra. Stop,” dulcet tones came at her, stern and tinged with a sense of … urgency? “I don’t need a drink. I’m just looking for the restroom,” she explained with a sheepish smile, her green eyes locking on to Korra’s bright blue ones as she finally released her steel grip on the barista’s shoulders.

Perplexed brows scrunched together in puzzlement as Korra looked at the tall beauty standing in front of her register. She was positively vibrating in place. “Oh!” comprehension finally dawned on the eager employee and her face broke into a wide sympathetic smile. “We share the restroom with the deli next door. You need to go through there. It’s located between their kitchen and the pick-up counter,” she directed the customer’s attention to the narrow passage that connected the coffee shop and the sandwich shop. With a barely audible word of thanks, the tall girl all but sprinted away. “Definitely, a small Cafe Ristretto,” Korra mumbled to herself as she looked toward the passageway connecting the two shops.


	4. A Thousand Cranes

Bold strokes of orange and red as if from a painter’s brush streaked across the heavens above Republic City. Campfires from the temporary shelters around the once-bustling metropolis dotted the landscape and, if not for the grim situation, the darkening vista might actually have been beautiful. However, it was a lonely sunset, just like on the day they buried her mother so many years ago. Just like on the day they buried her father so recently. Asami frowned at the memory as she continued to stare at the blackening sky from the balcony.

A month had passed since Hiroshi Sato’s funeral. It warmed Asami’s heart that, despite his “dalliance” with Amon and the Equalist movement, a surprising number of people attended. In her head, Asami knew they probably mostly came for her, but a small part of the engineer wanted to think that her father had redeemed himself at the very last moment of his life. His sacrifice had not only saved Asami but also Republic City. “I miss you, Dad,” the heiress whispered softly to the twilight zephyr as she shuddered against its cool embrace, blinking away her tears. The grieving young woman had her good days and bad days. Unfortunately, tonight was one of the bad days. Her mind nowhere and everywhere all at once while her clammy hands had a death grip around the mug of jasmine tea Bolin had kindly brought her earlier. “To soothe the soul,” the burly Earthbender had said quietly. It remained untouched.

A soft knock on the balcony door drew Asami’s attention away from the lights of Republic City. Without turning around, she said to the figure standing in the doorway, “I’m alright, Korra. I just needed some air.”

“How’d you know it was me?” the Avatar asked, making her way toward Asami.

“I just knew,” Asami replied, looking to her side at the bronze-skinned girl. “I’m alright. You don’t have to come check on me,” she said with a small smile that did not reach her green eyes.

Korra turned to face the taller girl and smiled. “I wasn’t coming to check on you. I came to get you because there’s something you need to see,” she explained, her smile growing bigger and more mysterious.

“What is it?” Asami asked, a little wary since most of what Korra showed her more often than not required some … minor repairs.

“You’ll see,” was all the Water Tribe girl would say as she reached for the cup in Asami’s hands before leading the industrial magnate back into the house. “Here’s a hint, though. You won’t need to put it back together,” Korra added with a light chuckle. “This time.” She guided a perplexed Asami down the stairs to the first floor of the mansion and then out the front door without another word of explanation.

As soon as Asami stepped out the front door, she was greeted by Mako, Bolin, Opal, Jinora, Ikki, Meelo, Rohan, Pema, and Tenzin assembled on her lawn. Lanterns along the driveway cast an amber glow around the group and in their hands were little paper cranes, joined together to make long strands. Korra followed Asami out the front door and stepped up behind her, resting tanned hands on the engineer’s shoulders. “Asami, it’s been a tough few weeks, especially for you. As your friends, your family, we wanted to let you know that you’re in our thoughts and our hearts,” Korra spoke softly into Asami’s ear.

“This was Mako’s idea,” Opal said as she shoved the tall, broody young man forward. “He gets to go first.”

Glaring back at the girl from Zaofu for a moment, Mako turned to smile shyly at Asami and cleared his throat. “My … our mom often told us the old story of the Fire Cranes,” Mako said as he stepped the rest of the way toward Asami. “Do you know it?” the Republic City detective asked and, when Asami shook her head at him, Mako continued. “She said the Cranes were mystical creatures that watched over the people of the Fire Nation,” Mako handed Asami a long string of the folded cranes in various shades of red.

“These Cranes lived to be a thousand years old,” his younger brother stepped forward and handed his set of green paper cranes to Asami. “According to the legend, you would be blessed with good fortune if you folded a thousand of these paper ones and offered it to the Crane,” Bolin’s voice trembled ever so slightly, betraying his emotional state and he quickly turned around to wipe his arm across his eyes. (Bless his cinny-minny little heart!)

“One for each year of its life,” Asami said softly, her emerald eyes glistening with tears she was trying to hold back.

“We each made a hundred,” Opal explained as she stepped forward to give Asami her strand of paper cranes before enveloping her friend in a fierce hug. “To make up the thousand,” the young girl mumbled into Asami’s shoulder.

“This is our wish for you, Asami,” Mako added and the heiress reached out for his hand, giving it a squeeze as she nodded her thanks to her usually stoic friend.

“It’s a beautiful wish and I hope it helps your heart heal, sweetie. Oh, and Rohan wanted to help too,” Pema explained as she slowly unwound a really long strand from around her youngest child. The tall girl quickly stepped forward to help, discovering that the Air Acolyte had wound two lengths of the paper cranes around her son several times. A few of the cranes looked like they had been folded and refolded several times; no doubt the handiwork of little hands.

Asami encircled both of them in a hug, “Thank you both. So much.”

As she started to pull back from her hug, little Rohan reached forward and grasped Asami’s face tightly in his tiny hands. “As’mi happy?” he asked, squishing the girl’s pale cheeks together.

“Yesh,” was all Asami could reply as she was joined by everyone else’s laughter at the littlest Airbender.

“Good,” Rohan replied, making kissy noises at the laughing engineer before Asami got the hint and gave the toddler a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Oh, Meelo, you have competition,” the Metal Clan Airbender teased Pema and Tenzin’s older son.

“Pffftt! No one measures up to Meelo the Man,” the youth waved off Opal’s teasing as he stepped forward and presented his brightly colored strand of paper cranes to Asami. “For you, beautiful woman!”

Asami gratefully accepted the multi-colored cranes and graciously gave Meelo a kiss on the cheek as well, causing the young Airbender’s face to darken. “Thank you,” she said and rubbed her lipstick mark off Meelo’s positively tomato red face.

“There is another legend,” Jinora stepped toward Asami and offered her own strand of paper cranes. “Well, not a legend per se. More of an old Air Nomad tradition that goes hand-in-hand with this one,” the eldest Air baby added as she hugged Asami then walked off toward the front door. “You get a two-fer!”

“Right,” the younger of the Airbender sisters chimed in. “Stuck together like this, the cranes look like the long streamers that used to hang at the old Air Temples,” Ikki hopped up to hang her strand around Asami’s neck seeing how the young woman’s arms were quite full already.

The elder Master Airbender stepped forward, at last, and pulled two strands of paper cranes from his robes. He handed one to Korra and the other to Asami. “My father used to tell me that the monks at the old Air Temples would write prayers for good fortune and peace on little flags and hang them around the temple. As the wind caught them, it carried the prayers throughout the land to everyone,” Tenzin added as he held Asami’s shoulders in his hands, giving them a gentle squeeze. “I wish you both, Asami.” At this point, all Asami could do was nod, too overcome by emotion.

“I did fold these myself, by the way,” Korra pointed out with a wag of her finger at the engineer who now had tears streaming down her cheeks. “We thought … we hoped these thousand cranes will grant you good fortune and peace,” the Avatar said as she placed the last hundred paper cranes in Asami’s very full arms. “And that you wouldn’t mind sharing it with those in Republic City who also need it.”

“We can hang them up on either side of your front door,” the young Beifong said from her slightly precarious perch atop an air scooter by the main entrance to the Sato mansion.

“They’ll be like the prayer flags from the old Air Temples,” Jinora added, balancing on her own air scooter on the other side of the front door.

“We already put hooks up,” Bolin gestured to the tiny fasteners in the wall. “Errr … don’t mind the cracks. I’ll fix it later. It’s hard to be precise with the tiny things,” he added nervously as he tried to block out the massive cracks in the plaster.

“Should’ve used a hammer, bro,” Mako teased his younger sibling.

Bolin dramatically held a hand to his heart and gasped, “You insult me with that! I’m an Earthbender! I don’t do hammers!”

“Or fine motor control, apparently,” Asami couldn’t resist harassing Bolin as well, nudging his broad shoulder with her own before smiling widely at him.

With an arm around Asami’s shoulders, Korra led her and the rest of the group to the front door. One by one, they handed the strands of paper cranes to Opal and Jinora who hooked them up on either side of the entry. “It’s beautiful,” Asami said as she admired her friends’ labor of love rustling in the light evening breeze. “Thank you all so much! I … I don’t know what to say. Just … just … thank you,” the heiress said in between happy tears.

“Group hug!” Bolin exclaimed and herded together this group of friends, this family forged from the ragtag band with too much love.

 

_As the great Dragon of the West once said, “a little help from others can be a great blessing.”_


	5. Flu Con

A resounding sneeze exploded from Korra as she stepped out of the steaming bathroom following her very hot shower. Even muffled by the towel, Asami caught the sneeze as she walked into the room. “That reminds me,” she started as she sat down on the bed to take her boots off. “I made appointments for us to get flu shots tomorrow morning.”

The Avatar froze where she stood. Slowly, she looked over at Asami and asked in a rather timid voice, “Errr … f-flu shots?”

“Yes, it’s that time of year, Korra,” the engineer stated plainly as she stood up and took her boots to the walk-in closet. “The newspaper said a lot more people are coming down with it this season. Some new strain or something. Hopefully, we’ll catch it this year with the flu shot before you actually come down with it. You are a _horrible_ patient,” she called from inside her closet. “Besides, I heard you sneeze.”

“N-no, I didn’t,” Korra said and sniffled unconsciously, berating herself silently for doing that. “It was the towel. I … I think your maid used a new detergent and … and it tickles my nose,” the tanned Avatar congratulated herself for dodging that bullet.

Asami poked her head out of the closet and raised a finely trimmed brow at her, incredulous. “Right. Your nose was … ticklish,” she said flatly. “We’ll still get flu shots. Just to be on the safe side,” she announced as she walked out of the closet and headed to the en suite.

Korra muttered curses to herself as she got into bed and wishing for some catastrophe to happen right freaking now that would require the Avatar’s presence. No such luck. (Even four hours later when the alarm clock was blinking 2 AM at her, all was quite and peaceful.)

While mornings were the arch nemesis of the Avatar, they were BFFs with the Sato heiress, apparently. Asami was up and showered even before the alarm went off. With a gust of wind, Korra sent the alarm clock flying off the nightstand and into the wall just as Asami walked out of the bathroom. “Korra,” she tsked. “That’s the fifth clock you’ve sent into the wall.”

“Mornings are evil,” the Water Tribe girl mumbled from under the covers, her voice hoarse and muffled.

After picking up the remnants of the clock, Asami dropped them into a box by the bedside where the remnants of the other four clocks were laid to rest. The engineer was determined to piece together, at least, two working timepieces from the clock carcasses. “That’s why I moved the clock to my side,” she said with a frown as she sat down at her vanity and unwrapped the towel from her head. “Time to get up, Korra. We have the appointment at the doctor’s office.”

“Why? I feel great,” the Avatar mumbled from under her cocoon. “I can feel it, Asami, this is the year I _won’t_ get the flu,” she added with a stifled sniffle at the end which she tried to cover up with a cough.

“Yes, and this is the year I feel Mako will actually tell a good a joke,” Asami sassed back at her girlfriend. “The appointment has been made. Get up, shower, and lets get it over with,” the heiress got up and promptly pulled the covers off Korra only to end up playing tug o’ war with the Avatar over the comforter.

“Look, Asami, I can’t go,” Korra finally sat up after Asami succeeded in yanking the covers completely off. “I … I never told you this but I can’t get a flu shot. It’s … it’s against my … the … Avatar code,” she looked everywhere around the room except directly at Asami as she was concocting her story. “I am the bringer of peace and balance to the world. How can I do that if I have a foreign substance in me that’s not naturally part of me? That’s … unnatural. That’s not part of the natural order and … and that’ll throw me and my … my whole aura out of whack, out of balance,” the Avatar tried to reason with Asami, still staring intently at the bed.

The engineer took in a slow breath as she folded her arms across her chest and looked at Korra sitting in bed still taking a rather keen interest in the silky sheets suddenly. “Avatar Korra, master of all elements, bringer of peace and balance,” Asami started as she cocked her head to one side. “You can face down a crazed zealot, a power hungry dictator, and even a dark spirit but you’re afraid of a flu shot?”

Korra’s head shot up at the accusation, a frown contorting her features. “I am _not_ afraid!” she groused.

“Prove it,” Asami quirked a brow at the Avatar, knowing the competitive streak in Korra would not let her back down from a challenge.

Korra opened her mouth to say something then closed it again, realizing she had been bested. “I have nothing to prove to you, Miss Sato.”

With a chuckle, Asami turned back to the vanity to finish getting ready. “We leave in 30 minutes. If I have to knock you out to get you to the doctor’s office, I will,” she said sweetly as she looked at Korra in the mirror and smiled.

All the way from the Sato Estate to the doctor’s office downtown, Korra continued her scheme of trying to get out of getting a flu shot. Asami merely cranked up the volume on the radio. However, the Avatar was relentless. Even as she sat on the bed in the exam room, she kept up her tirade of reasons for her not getting a flu shot. The doctor looked over at Asami, amused and bemused at the same time. The engineer raised a finger at the doctor and he nodded knowingly, stepping outside the curtains. “Korra,” the industrialist lifted the Avatar’s chin so she could look her in the eye. “How about we make a deal?”

“What sort of deal? It’s got to be more than those lollipops on the counter,” Korra pointed at the tub of candy behind Asami that looked like it had been sitting there since the beginning of time. “They look questionable.”

Asami moved closer to her girlfriend, placing a soft kiss on her cheek. “I’ll make it worth your while,” Asami’s voice lowered to an almost sultry growl as she placed another kiss on the Avatar’s strong jawline. Slowly, she moved to reach a hand behind Korra’s head and guide their faces closer together. Korra’s breath hitched as Asami drew closer, her breath hot and muggy against the tanned girl’s face. Ever so slowly, Asami closed the distance, brushing their lips together lightly before drawing Korra in for a slow, searing kiss, which left the Master of All Elements utterly speechless. Korra’s eyes fluttered close as she lost herself in the feel of Asami’s soft lips against hers. With her free hand, Asami quickly waved the doctor over. 

The clinician stepped into the room as Asami deftly moved aside. While Korra was still in her post-smooch stupor, the doctor inserted a syringe into Korra’s left nostril, and in one swift move, squirted in a measured dose of the flu medication.

“Snrrrtt!” Korra struggled to open her eyes as the foul spray slowly trickled down her throat. “What … snrrtt … w-what the hell?” Stunned from the kiss and the spray up her nose, she could only sit on the bed as she tried to snort out the foul fluid.

Before she could do anything else, the doctor reached a hand behind her head and administered the second half of the spray into her other nostril. “There, Avatar Korra,” he announced in his tinny voice. “All done!” he proclaimed and promptly stepped away from the exam bed.

“Snr -snrrtt!”Korra’s eyes were wide open now and glaring at the doctor. Then she turned her attention to her traitorous girlfriend. “You!” she pointed a finger at Asami and snuffled again. “You … sniffle … tricked … snrrtt … me! Snrrttt,” she continued to wag an accusing finger at Asami.

“I love you,” Asami smiled sweetly.

  



	6. You've Got Mail (AU)

Korra’s alarm rang loudly into her headphones, interrupting her music and signaling that it was already 7pm. “Crap,” she muttered under her breath, staring at the page she was reading. “I’m not done yet,” she bemoaned as she looked at the time on her phone, the wall clock, on her laptop, and her watch, wistfully wishing one of them would show a different time. Nope, still 7pm. Or rather, 7:01pm now. She needed to finish reading the book but she had promised her friend, Bolin, that she would go to a party with him. “Maybe, I can accidentally forget since this is such an engrossing book,” she thought to herself.

As if on cue, a text popped up on her phone from Bolin, “Don’t forget the party!”

With a resigned sigh, she closed the book only to frantically reopen it, trying to find her page. Digging through her jacket pockets for some sort of bookmark to use, her fingers wrapped around a stack of cards. Pulling it out, she saw they were the cards Bolin had made for her for the party tonight. “Calling cards,” he had said when he handed them to her. “You know, for when you want to hook up with someone at the party but not tonight?” They had a simple message – Call Me! and her phone number.

Shaking her head at her friend, she quickly stuck one of her calling cards in the book to mark her page and headed to the Inter-Library Loan desk to return the book. The librarian had told her that there was one other student who had asked for the same book and, since the library could only get one copy, they would both have to share and neither one was allowed to take the book home with them. “I’ll be back for it again tomorrow,” she said as she left the ILL desk.

Just minutes after Korra left, a tall young woman with long flowing raven locks walked up to the librarian. “Hi, I’m Asami Sato. I believe you have a book for me. The Enigma,” she said, peering over the desk at the computer as the librarian looked up Asami’s information before walking away to fetch the tome.

As he handed Asami the book, he told her, “There’s another student who requested this book too but we only have one copy so you two will have to share. You can check it out but only in the library. You can’t take it home with you. If you leave with it, the alarm will go off.”

With a nod, Asami took the book and headed off to her favorite corner of the library. After she had spread out her WMI (Weapons of Mass Instruction, i.e., laptop, hardbound notebook, a blue pen, a green pen, a highlighter, a bag of her homemade granola bars, and noise-canceling headphones), Asami was ready to tackle this book. She plugged the headphones in her laptop, fired up her favorite classical album, and dove right into The Enigma. Per her usual habit, Asami flipped through the book first to see if anyone before her had left any words of wisdom for her. A couple semesters ago, she found someone’s outline for a paper on the same topic she was working on and it turned out to be a lifesaver – they had listed a couple items she hadn’t even thought of to include in her paper and that earned her an A+ for the report.

As she fanned the pages, the book abruptly stopped at page 53. Gingerly, she pulled out the stark white card that was marking the page and looked it over. “Call me,” it said and below that line was, obviously, someone’s phone number. Without thinking, Asami reached for her phone and started punching in the numbers but stopped.

“No, they could be a nutter,” she thought to herself. “If they are, I don’t want them to have _my_ number.” Instead, she took her green pen and wrote a message just below the line of numbers. “Why do you want me to call you a bunch of numbers? Wouldn't it be better to call you by your name?” she wrote in her neat script, jade green eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. She put the card back and started on her own reading of the book, including the acknowledgements and foreword. (Yes, she was a very thorough reader.)

The next day, Korra stopped by the ILL desk around lunchtime and checked out The Enigma for a quick read during her lunch hour. She really only had about 45 minutes before her next class so she chose to just sit down in between a couple of shelves of really old maps that probably no one had bothered to look at or even dust since the library opened. Flipping through the pages to her bookmark, she pulled out her card. As she was about to put the card in her pocket, she spied a flash of green on it and stopped to study it. Reading Asami’s message with a chuckle, Korra thought for a moment then penned her own response on the back of the card. In her inelegant scrawl, she wrote back, “Ahh, but, if you're really a super spy, you'd figure out those numbers spell my name! ;)" Chuckling to herself again, she put the card in her pocket and picked up her reading from the previous night. When her alarm went off marking the end of her lunch hour, Korra pulled the card out of her pocket and flipped it around in her hands. She examined her message again to make sure it was sufficiently clever to warrant a reply from her mystery pen pal. Finally satisfied, Korra stuck the card in between pages 68 and 69. Grinning to herself, she closed the book with a soft thud. “Let’s see what you have to say to that, mystery person,” she muttered to herself as her second alarm went off, telling Korra she only had 5 minutes to make it across campus to her next class. “Crap!”

Running out of the library to her next class, Korra bumped shoulders with another girl headed. Books, loose-leaf notepaper, pens, and a bag of granola bars went flying all over the place as the slender student stumbled backwards down the steps of the library. A pale hand barely managed to grasp the handrail of the steps just as Korra’s tanned hands reached out and clasped around the other student’s flailing arm.

“I’m so sorry,” Korra called out as she righted the stumbling girl in front of her, pausing just long enough to register the pair of brilliant green eyes staring … no, _glaring_ at her. Korra glanced at her watch and realized she was two minutes to being late. “No, no, no, one more tardy and it’s minus 10 points! I’m so sorry! I have to go!” Korra yelled out and ran off, her brown bob springing with her every step.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Other students in the area had picked up her strewn belongings and returned them to her while she stared at Korra’s retreating (muscular) figure. With a muttered thanks to her fellow scholars, she retrieved her Weapons of Mass Instruction and entered the library, heading to the ILL desk. “Hi, Asami Sato. You’re holding The Enigma for me,” she said politely to the librarian.

“Ahh, saved me a trip to the back room. The other student just returned it,” the stocky man said with a smile as he pulled the book out from the bottom of the stack of books to be re-shelved.

Book in hand, Asami headed to her corner again and sat down at the desk. Still rattled from her collision with the other student, she closed her eyes and tried to calm herself down but that only ended up with her muttering curses to herself. Flipping her raven tresses over her shoulder, she reached for The Enigma and quickly fanned through it, eagerly anticipating a response from her mystery correspondent. And she was not disappointed. Korra’s calling card stopped the flipping pages and Asami excitedly pulled the card out. “Spells your name?” she wondered out loud. Thinking back to her Cryptology class, she tried a basic cipher on the numbers on the card but that did not yield anything. She tried a few more encryption algorithms but still no luck. Intrigued and feeling somewhat challenged, Asami pulled out her Cryptology textbook from her backpack.

Three hours later, she ended up creating an encoding procedure of her own, which translated Korra’s telephone number to “fathead.” Feeling rather pleased with herself, she wrote her response on the back of the card in her usual neat handwriting, “Your name is … fathead? Wow, just how long was your mom in labor to make your parents name you that? Unless you’re the fathead who nearly creamed me at the library steps today, then, yes, that name would be appropriate.”

Sniggering to herself, Asami put the card back in the book then decided to add a smiley next to the last line just to make sure whoever read it knew she was only joking. Pausing to think, she pulled the card back out and wrote down her cipher on the card as well. Finally satisfied, she flipped to her own section of the book and started to read when her phone alerted her to a text. It was her father asking if she was still going to meet him at the warehouse. Looking at the time, Asami realized she had spent all her studying time _not_ studying! Slapping a hand to her forehead, she closed the book and packed up her things before heading back to the front desk to return the book.

Bright and early the next morning (read almost noon Korra Standard Time), Korra was at the library to check out the book again. Or rather, to see what new message had been left for her from her secret friend. Hurrying to a spot in the stacks, she quickly fanned the pages of the book and landed on her marker. Korra let out a loud cackle as she read the message, earning her glares from several students studying nearby and a passing librarian. She ducked her head and put a hand over her mouth to stifle the remaining giggles. “A smart ass, eh?” she said to herself. However, when she got to the end of the message, her sapphire eyes had grown wide. “I _am_ the fathead who nearly creamed her at the stairs,” she thought, somewhat mortified. “No, no, plausible deniability. Admit nothing. Let’s see …” she tapped her chin as she tried to think of an equally impudent response. An hour later, she was still staring at the card and tapping her chin. “And this is why, I’m flunking Creative Writing,” she thought to herself. “And, apparently, Cryptology too,” she added with a sigh as she studied Asami’s cryptogram. Her alarm went off alerting her that her shift at the Rec Center started in fifteen minutes. Giving up, she simply wrote down the first thing that popped into her mind, “Close … but no cigar. Fathead is actually code (in a foreign language) for my super secret agent handle.” She looked at her uninspired response for a quick minute before adding, “And I hope you’re ok. No thanks to the stupid fathead. :)” Shrugging and shoving the card back into the book, Korra realized she had not read a single page the entire time she was at the library. “I’m never going to get this book report done by mid-terms,” she groused to herself.

This “book mail” exchange went on for weeks between Korra and Asami, slowly building up their friendship one message at a time.

Asami: “I translated it to every conceivable language and all signs point to “Le Turd!” That’s a very … unique code name, super secret agent spy person. And I’m fine. Thank you for asking. The stupid fathead actually creamed me then caught me before she ran off. I guess I can’t really be mad.”

Korra: “Glad you’re ok and that the fathead saved your life. Maybe she was also a super secret agent spy person and was late for a meet up. Can’t be too mad at that, right? Sincerely, Le Turd!”

Asami: “So, you’re saying there are more than one of you super secret agent spy persons running around campus? Is she your partner? That would make you both … Tweedle Turd and Tweedle Twat? LOL”

Korra: “Shhhh! Not so loud! You could jeopardize my mission! No one can know my secret identity. I am Le Turd … that fogs up the night! Haha.”

Asami: “That explains why some nights, when the wind blows just right, it’s extra … fragrant. That must be when you’re on the job, right?”

Korra: “No, no, that’s not me. The only place I know that is quite that … rosy smelling is the locker room at the Rec Center. And I do work there! Woe is me!”

“Asami: “I give you my condolences. And my bottle of perfume. :) Look in 539.120.2.”

Korra: “You wear this all the time? You must smell great! Like all the time! At work today, I had so many people ask me what I was wearing. Of course, my only answer was … wait for it … drumroll … clothes! I slay me! BTW, quantum physics? Are you some egghead or spacehead?”

Asami: “It’s my favorite. My mom actually used to wear that all the time. It reminds me of her. I’m glad you wear clothes at work. I think this University has a rule on public indecency. If you were to get suspended, we’d have to stop our book mail and that would be tragic. And it’s neither egghead nor spacehead. My super secret agent spy code name is Ingeniarius.”

By the time midterms rolled around, Korra and Asami had gone through the entire stack of Korra’s calling cards. Korra actually finished her book report on The Enigma a few days before it was due, despite the distractions of the book mail. Waiting for everyone to clear out so she could speak to the professor, Asami watched from the back of the auditorium as Korra very smugly turned in her book report early. “You’re done?” the professor quirked a brow at the tanned girl. “Early for a change?”

Korra’s response was to merely waggle her eyebrows at the professor and silently swagger out the door, a smirk clearly on her face. Asami chuckled to herself and then walked up to talk to the professor. Leaving the class, Korra was headed to the Student Union to meet up with Bolin when she stuck her hands in her jacket and felt a card in her pocket. Pulling it out, she saw her final response to Asami. Which she totally forgot to put in the book before she returned it to the ILL desk. “Crap!” she yelled out and did an about face, running to the library and hoping her book mail pen pal hadn’t checked the book out yet. She ran up to the ILL desk just as Asami turned around with the book in her hands and they both slammed into each other. The book went flying out of Asami’s grasp and both of them ended up sprawling on the hard floor.

“You!” Asami pointed a finger at Korra. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“M-me?” Korra asked sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck.

“You stupid fathead! You ran into me once before,” Asami’s green eyes turned steely now that she’d gotten a closer look at Korra’s face and recognized her as the fathead who ran into her at the library steps weeks ago. “What’s your rush? Have some super secret agent spy meet up to go to?” she mocked the fathead still sitting on the ground.

Korra’s mouth opened slightly at Asami’s familiar words. Unable to form a sentence, she merely stared at the pale girl still sitting on the floor as well.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” Asami asked, finally picking herself up and dusting herself off.

“No, no,” Korra shook her head in response. “Errr … you might think … um … this is crazy … Ingeniarius?” She hesitantly asked from her spot on the floor.

All fire extinguished from Asami’s eyes as she regarded Korra, brow furrowed in confusion. “Le Turd?”

Then both girls started laughing. They laughed so hard in fact, Asami collapsed back on the floor and the librarian had to come over to shush them.

“Goodness, it’s … it’s you!” Asami exclaimed once she’d stopped laughing and wiped the tears from her eyes.

“The one and only Le Turd … that fogs up the night!” Korra quipped, sending them both into another laughing fit. She finally stopped long enough to pick up the book next to Asami.

“I thought you were done with the book. I could’ve sworn I saw you turn in your paper today,” she asked when Korra hung on to the book trying to surreptitiously flip to a page toward the end.

"Err ... I did. I'm done," Korra is suddenly nervous. "But ... err ... I ... I forgot something." Korra quickly flipped to a random page and stuck her message in then returned the book to Asami.

A smile formed on Asami's face as she read the message. "I'd love to,” she replied as she took Korra’s proffered hand and they both walked out of the library (setting off the alarm since the book was never really checked out.)

 

Note: 539.120.2 is the Universal Decimal Classification (UDC) notation for quantum physics. Ingeniarius is Medieval Latin for engineer.

  


**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing fan fiction so, any feedback would be appreciated. Tell me what you thought of the story, where do I need improvement, what worked, did you like any of it? Please and thank you!


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